


me and all my friends (we can shake until the bitter end)

by thestarsarewinning



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon, David Rose deserves nice things, Developing Friendships, Gen, I Don't Even Know, actually they all do, and Stevie doesn't really interact with her either, because David being friends with Twyla is never explored in the show, maybe this is like bunch of codas for like two episodes of each series?, they just drink a lot, this is based off one one scene from season one, this is the David/Stevie/Twyla friendship we were denied, warning for alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsarewinning/pseuds/thestarsarewinning
Summary: “What and why are we drinking?”“Um, I don't know, and today, some snippy teen told me that my life was a mess, so-““And I am now a single person.”**Twyla’s drink making ability has not improved.This does not surprise Stevie.(or, the David, Twyla and Stevie friendship Dan Levy denied us)





	me and all my friends (we can shake until the bitter end)

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first fic for Schitt's Creek and actually my first fic in a while so i think that makes this twice as exciting for me to actually post
> 
> i watched all of the show in like three weeks when i should have been revising for my exams and one thing that i really wanted was more of the last bit from the episode from s1, little sister
> 
> the title comes from the song me and all my friends by walk the moon

_“What and why are we drinking?”_

_“Um, I don't know, and today, some snippy teen told me that my life was a mess, so-“_

_“And I am now a single person.”_

**

Twyla’s drink making ability has not improved.

This does not surprise Stevie. Ignoring the fact that she’s visited the cafe ever since it opened and therefore has years of experience, Stevie figures it’s Twyla, making cocktails, which no one actually orders, and that’s enough said. David, on the other hand, accepts each drink with a look that says, ‘this cannot possibly be worst than the last’, and yet it always is.

Tonight, they seem to be drinking what might generously be described as a martini’s bastard cousin. There’s gin, lemon twists and a bottle with a label claiming it was vermouth, but Stevie has seen Twyla refill that bottle with things that most definitely aren’t vermouth, so it’s anyone’s guess.

Technically, that answers the ‘what’ part of the question David had asked this time, dropping into the stool next to Stevie’s. He’d asked to be cute, or if not cute then clever, but Twyla’s answer of, “I think Ivan wants me to marry him,” stops David in his tracks, his eyebrows rising as he stares, unable to form a response.

Stevie hasn’t met anyone else as unable to control what their face does as David. It’s hilarious when it’s not annoying.

“And I had to drive this irritating guy from the motel to Elmdale today, but you already know how that went.” Stevie slides a glass across to him, smirking as David’s expression changes from confused to outraged to resigned before finally settling on mildly put out.

By drink three, David is yet to stop pulling a face at the glass Twyla keeps refilling — which she’s doing vigilantly, David’s glass has yet to be completely empty — but he’s no longer commenting out loud, which means it’s almost too quiet for why they’re all here, discounting the background hum of the last few diners, the shut down of the kitchen and the radio below the counter that Twyla keeps set to some country station.

Stevie doesn’t generally mind silences, but she figures that this drinking together thing is for complaining and this drives her to turn back to Twyla. “You could do worse than Ivan. He’s- He at least looks like he washes his clothes in an actual machine.”

**

“I had to search for my mother’s nudes.”

David’s grasp on his glass seems perilously tight, and Stevie wants to elbow him. She does, and takes the opportunity to remind him, “I had to search for your mother’s nudes.”

Never mind that the nudes in question hadn’t surfaced, the act itself qualified as a trauma. And as such, Mai Tai's seemed to be in order, or at least Twyla’s attempt at Mai Tai's. Attempt being the operative word because David had asked, “Don’t you need, like, more ingredients for these? Like, lime maybe?

Stevie would probably settle for whiskey or a can of beer, but something about being told to take nudes and remember them by a woman both hysterical and proud of having her nudes online had made the lone bottle of whiskey on the shelf in her kitchen seem inadequate.

Therefore, the solution to having the very notion of Moira Rose’s nudes forever burned into her brain was dragging David away from the motel to what she was pretty sure would be the cause of a fairly substantial hangover.

Twyla’s eyebrows raise at the shared trauma, a silent ‘Oh’ escaping her as she continues mixing what Stevie recognises as bottom shelf whiskey with pineapple juice. “And I thought I had a bad day.”

“Is this about my dad?” David asks, and he doesn’t particularly want to hear the answer but continues anyway, “Because that would make a lot of sense. He, um, he tried to hug me today.”

David’s theatrical shudder is impressive, but not quite impressive enough to detract attention away from what he’s just said, and Twyla’s mouth opens and closes again before she seems to decide to give up. Stevie pats his arm, spilling only some of her drink in her attempt. “You poor thing. Twyla, another refill?”

**

They’re not at the cafe, but Twyla’s party means the cafe was never going to be an option, what with its two sole employees having been freed for the evening. Instead, once everyone from the party has cleared out, Stevie settles for the kitchen floor, leaning against a cabinet and kicking David in the shins often enough to ensure that he’s more or less still conscious.

Twyla’s sat next to her, drinking rum out of the bottle. “No one got murdered.”

“Generally, Twyla, that’s the sign of a successful party.” Stevie’s being obtuse, but it makes David laugh, a drunk aborted snort that Twyla visibly chooses to ignore, swallowing more of the rum before gesturing to what, six hours ago, was a reasonably clean apartment but now resembles a dumpster. “At my murder mystery party, no one got murdered. How will I convince people to show next year?”

“Maybe that can be the mystery?” David’s an unhelpful drunk, his stubbornness increases tenfold, as does his habit of shame eating, but he’s less snarky and defensive and seems genuine enough in his suggestion that Twyla actually considers it for moment, head tilted to one side and squinting before she takes a swig from the rum and passes the bottle over to Stevie.

They’re quiet for a moment, sharing around the rum, before Twyla asks, “It’s not like people didn’t have a nice time, right? You guys enjoyed the party, didn’t you?”

The rum provides a cover for not answering immediately and Stevie takes advantage of it, considering the way David actually looks happy and how the party had passed without a fight or drama from anyone, even Alexis.

“Yes,” Stevie answers, surprised to find she means it.

**

David’s first weekend as the owner of a now-open business is a success.

Stevie still feels torn between mocking him for how well the store is doing or mocking him for doubting it would be, but this is a struggle she’s been successfully navigating ever since David showed up in the hotel lobby announcing that they’d almost met their goal for the first three months already. Currently, she’s managing to keep her mouth shut, and this means that they’re sitting at the counter of the cafe, watching Twyla mix drinks and, for once, there’s no quiet moping going on.

When Twyla hands them glasses of something that smells faintly like paint thinner, they raise their glasses in an air of almost actual celebration.

David’s smile hasn’t fallen away yet, noticed by both Stevie and Twyla, though the taste of whatever they’re drinking is enough to cause his nose to wrinkle and him to splutter as he asks, “Do you guys think I should have invited Patrick?”

Stevie empties her glass.

Twyla hasn’t spent nearly every day of the past month with David and therefore has been spared the steady stream of David’s consciousness that’s undeniably fixated on his business partner, and Stevie manages to remember this and forgive Twyla for asking, “Why? Do you think he wants to join us? Because I’ve got all these ideas he hasn’t tried out yet and that could be good feedback.”

“I just think it might be nice, like, if he were involved more.” David’s face is doing that thing, where he’s smirking but not, and his voice is careful as he speaks and Stevie wants to roll her eyes.

Technically, David knows her stance on this, that bridge has already burnt, but she wants to pretend it’s not too late to veer away from, ‘I like this for you.’

She swallows a mouthful of the refill Twyla gives her before she says, “Isn’t it enough that he’s your business partner?”

**

David has technically been drinking since before Stevie got here. It’s nice, she supposes, to see him out of bed, voluntarily, and, from what she knows about his past coping mechanisms, this could be worse, but-

But David’s no longer pulling a face every time he takes a sip of his drink, and Stevie knows a bad sign when she sees one. She drops into the seat next to him and accepts the drink Twyla slides in front of her before she says, “So.”

“So,” is the response David parrots back, his expression pinched and voice high, and Stevie thinks she’d consider hugging him. She decides on the opposite path. “It’s nice to see you out of bed. I was starting to think you might be dead and I’d have to find a priest to perform another exorcism.”

“Another?”

David isn’t nearly loud enough for his response to land convincingly — it falls kind of flat, lacking the horror and hysteria Stevie’s come to expect — but it’s enough of something for Twyla to say, “My mom’s step-niece married this priest who’d been excommunicated; she might know someone who could do that for you.”

The drink in front of Stevie suddenly seems very necessary and she tries it, trying not to let the burn of what’s got to be whiskey from the car trunk of the guy who runs the Internet cafe in Elmdale get to her and failing. That doesn’t bode well for David, whose glass Twyla is refilling.

Twyla’s glass is almost untouched and seeing it fills Stevie with the urge to level the playing field, so she takes the bottle from her, setting it down before raising her glass and waiting for the others to follow suit.

It’s possibly wrong of her to say, ‘To Alexis,’ before they drink, but it feels more so to directly address the elephant in the room — the elephant that’s actually just across the street, visible through the open door of Rose Apothecary if she squints — and the snort of laughter David lets out suggests that it’s maybe not.

**

Twyla has drinks already poured and waiting by the time David and Stevie arrive.

It’s unfortunate, really, that it’s ten am and therefore by anyone’s judgement inappropriate to turn to alcohol. It’s just that Stevie would appreciate something so alcoholic that even the taste of it makes her wonder if she’s going to die from drinking it or not, but it’s early in the morning and Emir is nothing, was nothing, and she doesn’t require the careful handling and space everyone had carved out for David.

She really doesn’t.

She might, however, admit that it’s nice that they’re sat here, her, David and Twyla. It’s nice. It is. Even if they’re drinking coffee and Twyla keeps ducking out to serve people because the cafe is strangely busy for a Tuesday morning.

Stevie accepts the coffee David puts in front of her and tries to ignore the look on his face, which, if she’s remembering correctly, is supposed to be one of concern, similar to the look he saves now for Alexis, or Twyla when his dad’s trying to order off menu.

She’s remembering now that he’s her best friend and remembers this again when he says, “He’s clearly blind. Blind and stupid.”

Twyla looks up from her pad and bill calculating at that and nods her head in solidarity. “And he wasn’t even that nice. He tips like Mr Rose does, and my ex-stepbrother dresses better, and for the last three years he’s had a tracker alarm preventing him from even going near Target. Well, technically, it prevents him from leaving his front yard, but-“

“Thanks, Twy,” David interrupts, half of his face curved up into a smile nonetheless, and Stevie knocks her foot against his under the counter. It’s a risky move, nearly all of David’s shoes cost more than her car, but he just kicks her back and waves his mug, acting like all along he’d planned on asking, “More coffee? Oh, and Patrick and I talked, and um, we were considering, if our vendor agrees, on giving the cafe a discount on those coffee beans, because you guys order so many and this coffee is such an improvement, you know?”

Twyla gives Stevie more coffee too and nods, though Stevie would bet that Twyla’s probably not aware that they even buy coffee for the cafe from Rose Apothecary, but the gesture quietens her and Stevie’s actually grateful to David.

She’s a little less grateful when David looks up from his coffee and suggests, “You know, if we left for Elmdale now, we could be at The Comfort Inn in time to have polar bear shots with lunch-“

Stevie kicks him again, this time into silence, deliberately and perhaps a tad harshly, and she shares a smile with Twyla at the yelp David lets out. It doesn’t stop him, though, and he glares at Stevie, leaning as far away from her as he can from his seat at the counter without falling. “I’m just saying; polar bear shots have solved a lot of problems I’ve had.”

Stevie wants to argue that there wasn’t a polar bear shot in sight the last time David was having a problem — a real problem, not a ‘there’s a milky bug in my room’ problem — but David’s drinking his coffee and smiling at her and she has a feeling that reminding him would be like kicking one of the dogs Ted has up for adoption. Instead, she settles for actually kicking him again, turning back to her coffee and managing a smile when Twyla offers her a muffin to go with it. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'd love to see what you guys thought,, leave me a comment? 
> 
> i'm also on tumblr as @thestarsarewinning


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